FAITHFUL LIVING
When my children were little we played a game called, “I Spy!” I’d say to them, usually in the car…
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
Although I grieve just a bit when the long, dry days of summer become short, dark and cold, I rather like these days because I am hopelessly nostalgic about Christmas. With a determined change in attitude, I embrace the wind and hope for snow with a sense of adventure by adjusting our routines. We gather up our flashlights and purchase fresh batteries. We gas up our generator, stock our cupboards with canned soup and set up a puzzle table near the fireplace. I heat cider and simmer a cheesecloth bag filled with mulling spices as much for the fragrance as for the flavor. And I listen to Karen Carpenter sing, “There is no place like home for the holidays…” for the millionth time.
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
It usually strikes around 9:30 most summer nights when the darkened skies drive my kids and their friends indoors. The energy of the day unabated, they bluster into the kitchen needing snacks to refill their coffers, depleted during the hours they have been working at their part-time jobs or enjoying summertime activities with friends.
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
FAITHFUL LIVING
